Oh, summer. Kind of.

First of all, has everyone been over to the Barnes & Noble online UF bookclub, where Personal Demons (that's my book, see, the one what I wrote) is the July Subfeature?

(This is one of those situations where I ask a question to which I already know the answer, and the answer is no. You haven't been. I know this because I haven't seen you there. Get over there! Go on! *poke poke prod*)

Second of all. I have decided to do a little series this summer on my personal blog(s)--(I post on blogger and livejournal both) on writing sex scenes. I urge you all to come by, it should be a lot of fun, and I'll be announcing a new summer blogging schedule tomorrow.

And third of all...it's summer. At least it's supposed to be. I still have to wear my coat outside most days. It's rained almost every day (though thankfully not quite as bad as last year, when we had nine straight weeks of solid rain. We've had only intermittent rain.)

I dislike summer. It's my least favorite season.

I don't really like heat, although I wouldn't mind having more right about now. I don't like all that sunshine. I mean, I like the sun, but I don't need it constantly. I LOATHE Daylight Savings Time, really hate it. I like it to get dark at a decent hour when I can enjoy it. I have small children; we've had to hang two blankets over their curtains to make their bedroom dark enough for them to go to sleep at a reasonable time (they go to bed at eight, eight-thirty; nine on weekends and holidays.)

But what I dislike most about summer is, I don't write well in the summer. Something about the heat and constant lightness, the sheer undramaticness (is that a word? I don't think it is) of it, seems to suck out all my creative energy. I write best in the fall. I get my best ideas then and I work fastest. But summer, bleh. A few light-hearted little stories seem to be all I'm good for, really.

I can write about summer just fine, although I tend to set stories in the fall too. But I just don't really like writing suring the summer. It's not that I want to be outside (ugh, I don't. There are bees and wasps outside and I'm allergic, even if I were inclined to enjoy the other bugs, which I am emphatically not). I just don't feel productive.

Everything slows down in the summer, too. I hate that. I get antsy when I'm not working. It bugs me to have nothing to do. Sure, I could clean my house or something but I'm not that desperate. I just sit. I read (okay, I love that) and watch tv and...sit.

I hate summer.


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